


when these broken words are not enough

by unholyconfessions (orphan_account)



Series: remember the secrets we've told [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Barry Can't Have Nice Things, Developing Relationship, Drunken Kissing, F/M, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Light Angst, M/M, Tight Spaces, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 11:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2650037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/unholyconfessions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry could say that yes, it is about Iris, and it wouldn’t be lying because, honestly, <em>partially</em>, it is. The problem is that it’s also about Iris’ boyfriend—the one he kissed at a deserted parking lot at midnight on a Tuesday and goddammit, why does his brain keep bringing it up?—finding out his secret, which is inherently about Iris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when these broken words are not enough

**Author's Note:**

> This ship... I have no words for it. 
> 
> Right after the events of [burn your bridges](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2642198) . Not beta'd as usual, I apologize for mistakes. 
> 
> Feedback is awesome. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Barry can think of at least one hundred and seventy reasons why he and Eddie should talk about it, but they don’t.

He’s never been one to step around eggshells, more like over them. Life is awkward enough for him without involving a secret identity _and_ a kiss, so it doesn’t take long before Joe—and Iris, probably, although she doesn’t show it—notices something’s wrong. He avoids asking Barry what’s going on, Barry knows, but whenever Eddie is in the room with them, Barry can feel Joe’s eyes evaluating the situation.

“Barry,” Joe says one day, casually, as he flips through a file in Barry’s lab. “Is this about Iris?”

The echo of Joe’s voice haunts the room for a moment. 

Barry could say that yes, it is about Iris, and it wouldn’t be lying because, honestly, _partially_ , it is. The problem is that it’s also about Iris’ boyfriend—the one he kissed at a deserted parking lot at midnight on a Tuesday and goddammit, why does his brain keep bringing it up?—finding out his secret, which is inherently about Iris. Barry feels that, if he says that it’s indeed about Iris, he might end up cracking more eggshells than necessary.

That’s why when Joe’s inquisitive gaze bores onto him for a moment longer, he releases a shriek that reverberates through his entire body, but no adequate answer comes out. 

Joe raises his eyebrows at him, dropping the file onto the desk, and one doesn’t need to be smarter than a door to realize that nobody is getting out of that lab if Joe doesn’t get a proper response.

“Eddie knows about me.”

That’s it: Joe goes from the man who took him in as a child to the man that is going to kick his ass in a matter of instants. It’s clear in Joe’s expression what he’s thinking—if Eddie knows, then Iris might as well.

Barry reassures him that, “She doesn’t know. I promise,” and Joe allows the words to hang around them for a moment.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Barry,” says Joe as he picks up the file and turns his attention back to it.

Barry watches him for a second before adding, “I didn’t mean for it to happen, it just did.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

Barry nods, hums in agreement, and goes back to the sample he was analyzing.

***

He’s hardly shared a room alone with Eddie in a week.

Their boxing practices have been reduced to hello, goodbye, and Eddie silently nodding whenever Barry has to go over a case with him to keep appearances. It’s not ideal and it’s not convenient, but it’s a reality that Barry isn’t willing to break. 

Not yet.

He practices alone from time to time, at the lab, carefully planning his schedule so he doesn’t bump into Eddie, although he suspects he doesn’t need to, because he’s pretty sure Eddie hasn’t stepped a foot in his lab ever since. It gives him something to do when he’s not chasing a bad guy, pining over a woman he can’t have, or trying to forget something that he’d rather not remember in the first place.

Thursday night, one broken hand and three sand bags later, Barry is leaving the lab and locking up when he notices Eddie’s car in the otherwise unoccupied parking lot. He’s tempted to just sprint home and avoid the subsequent awkward conversation, but his feet aren’t coordinating with his brain.

“Sorry,” is the first thing Eddie says, as if sensing Barry’s wariness. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“You didn’t.”

Eddie nods, smiling, and looks down at his feet. He’s missing his suit and tie; his shirt is popped open at the top, sleeves rolled up to the elbows to reveal just enough skin to make Barry uncomfortable.

“I thought we should talk.”

“About what?” 

“Allen,” Eddie says, intently. Barry sighs, glancing around them to make sure no one’s listening, and turns to Eddie again when Eddie starts talking, “I want things to go back to normal.”

Barry raises his eyebrows. Normal? He hasn’t known what normal is for a while, and maybe he never has because his dad is wrongfully imprisoned, he’s in love with the girl he grew up with, he’s made out with said girl’s boyfriend, and he can run faster than the speed of sound; normal isn’t exactly the most notorious aspect of his life.

Eddie doesn’t blink when Barry continues to stare at him, speechless. Instead, he takes a step forward and forces Barry to take a step back, Barry’s bag hitting the wall before he does. He blinks, licks his lips when his mouth starts to feel dry, and watches as Eddie’s eyes flick down and back up.

Barry knows what that means and he knows what to expect, but he’s not prepared to take the risk.

“I love Iris,” he declares, and Eddie’s close enough that he can feel the moment Eddie stops breathing. “I’m in love with her.”

The next minute seems to stretch into an eternity as Barry watches the light drain from Eddie’s eyes. He recognizes the silent defeat, the way Eddie takes one, two steps back and can’t seem to look him in the face. He’s done it more times than he can count; Iris never had a problem finding someone that wasn’t him to be in love with her.

“She doesn’t know,” Barry offers. Eddie picks up his gaze at that, and Barry promises, although it carves a hole into his stomach, “She never will.”

Eddie watches him for a moment longer, sliding his hands inside his pockets and nodding at nothing in particular. 

Before he leaves, he says, “I’ll see you at work, Allen.”

Barry chooses to walk home; it takes him an hour.

***

Even the bad guys seem not to want to work on Friday.

Barry finds himself with nothing to do at his lab. Joe allows him to head to S.T.A.R. Labs instead, where Cisco comes up with a heavy bag that won’t rip under his punches and Caitlin bandages his eventually broken hand. 

He doesn’t tell them about Eddie.

At night, the Flash—not Barry, because he promised Eddie—goes to see Iris at Jitters. Her smile tells him she’s been expecting him and he takes her to the roof, asks her to close her eyes, and kisses her. 

Barry doesn’t intend to leave without warning, but he does. He’s home in eight seconds and promptly hurls his dinner down the toilet.

***

His weekend is spent at S.T.A.R. Labs with Cisco and Caitlin.

Caitlin doesn’t miss the chance to tell them she’d rather be home getting some hard-earned rest than patching Barry up after his and Cisco’s failed attempts at physical training, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips when she says it.

Once Barry breaks his thirteenth consecutive bone and goes through an entire bandage roll, Cisco throws his hands up and announces his abdication. Caitlin releases a long breath and Barry nods, smiles at them through the pain.

His body regenerates before they are out the door and Caitlin, who makes sure there are no more sore spots on Barry’s torso by poking him with a finger, suggests they hit a bar. Cisco is eager to agree, but Barry hesitates.

“I don’t know, guys.”

Caitlin narrows his eyes at him and produces a test tube from inside her purse. “New formula,” she says, and wiggles it in front of Barry’s face.

She gives Cisco a look and Cisco gives him the thumbs up, nodding. “It’s incredible. You’ll get _so_ drunk, man.”

Barry tries to snatch the tube from Caitlin’s hand but she just smiles at him as she dodges and places it back into her purse. She raises her eyebrows at Barry as if to ask _well?_ and Barry glances between them before nodding.

“Fine, I’ll go,” he says, and Cisco holds out a fist for him to bump, which he does, shaking his head.

There’s still a bright trace of color in the sky when they arrive at the bar, but the place is already packed. They squeeze their way through the crowd until they get to the counter and Caitlin orders for her and Cisco, handing Barry three test tubes.

“Be careful with those,” she tells him. “They’re far stronger than the other one… and a little diuretic.”

Barry studies the amber concoction inside the tubes for a moment, frowning. He glances back at her, asks, “A little diuretic?”

It’s Cisco who answers, “A lot. It’s her fault.”

Caitlin shoots him a dirty look and clears her throat. “I might have swapped a few compounds. Don’t worry, it won’t kill you,” she says it as if it’ll make Barry feel at ease, patting him on the shoulder. “I promise.”

Barry raises his eyebrows at her, but when hers and Cisco’s drinks arrive and they lift their glasses up in a cheer, Barry figures what the hell and goes for it. The liquid burns its way down like fire against Barry’s throat; his eyes water and his breath catches in his chest.

“Oh, God,” Barry coughs up, patting his torso as heat climbs to his head, making him sway to the side.

Caitlin’s hands come up to hold his shoulder and he slants against her. He hears Cisco laughing beside her but it sounds distant, and then there’s a familiar voice, and another, calling his name.

“Allen?”

Barry jolts up and away from Caitlin, but the sudden movement makes him lose his balance and he staggers to the other side, where he’s sure he’ll hit the wooden stool and end up fracturing his fourteenth bone for the day.

He looks up at Eddie when he feels Eddie’s hands cushion his fall. Barry’s stomach clenches and he tries to pick himself up, his hands flat on Eddie’s chest to try and gain momentum, but he’s pretty sure his muscles have all turned to jelly.

Eddie gives out a small chuckle and helps him up. Barry doesn’t thank him, choosing to ignore his presence as he walks around him to greet Caitlin and Cisco, Iris following.

“He’s just a little tipsy,” Barry hears Caitlin say as her hands make quick work of hiding the test tubes back inside her purse.

“I can see that,” says Iris, a hint of humor in her voice. She takes the empty stool next to Barry and places a hand on his arm, squeezing. “You alright? I think you need some water.”

Barry twists his neck to look at her, but can only make out two head-shaped blotches. He nods, carefully, and her hand squeezes him again. In the background, he can hear Cisco and Caitlin whispering something unintelligible to each other—probably deciding who is going to volunteer for Barry to drop off a cliff first when he’s fully functional.

He gives Caitlin a nudge with his elbow and cuts their banter short. Caitlin turns to him smiling, and then looks up at Eddie, who’s standing behind Iris.

“So,” she says, her tone a notch too high, “you two. Date night?”

Barry watches as Iris exchanges a look with Eddie and he nods at her, places a kiss to her hair. She then smiles at Caitlin, says, “Yes, date night.”

Eddie looks at Barry and Barry holds his gaze for a minute, until his vision clears up and he can see a question in Eddie’s eyes. His stomach clenches again, but Barry has a feeling it’s got nothing to do with Caitlin’s homebrew.

The bartender slides a cup of water across the counter and Iris takes it and Barry’s hand, wrapping Barry’s fingers around the glass. 

“There you go,” she tells him, and now he can see her face when she smiles.

“Thanks.” He smiles back and swallows the entire glass in one go. God, his mouth is so dry—and he desperately needs to pee. He throws his thumb over his shoulder and mutters, “I’m just going to—I need to—” but doesn’t get to finish his sentence as he scrambles to his feet and the world tilts to the side.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he says, waving a dismissive wave when Iris puts her worried look on. The world continues to do a ninety-degree spin.

“Babe, can you go with him?” says sideways-Iris, glancing up—down, sideways?—at Eddie. She chuckles. “Just to make sure he doesn’t drown in the sink.”

Barry wants to shoot her a pointed look for the lame joke, but his entire nervous system is going haywire. The next thing he knows, Eddie has his hand around his arm and is tugging him to the men's room, leaving the chatter between Iris, Cisco and Caitlin behind.

They stumble inside the tiny space and Barry slumps against the sink, head still spinning. Caitlin wasn’t joking when she said this one was strong.

“Hey, Allen. Allen.”

Barry opens the tap and splashes water over his face, wincing when it drips into and down his shirt, icy cold against his skin. He tries to count his heart rate in his mind but Eddie keeps saying his name. He can’t bring himself to respond, not when he feels like he might faint at any second, and props himself up on the heels of his hands, against the sink, instead.

“Allen? Talk to me.”

One, two, three lungsful of disinfectant-smelling air later, Barry finds it in himself to meet Eddie’s eyes in the mirror. Eddie seems worried, maybe a little irritated, when he raises his eyebrows at Barry and says his name again.

“I’m okay,” Barry reassures him. 

“You don’t look okay.”

Barry looks at himself, frowns. “I know.”

“How much did you have to drink, Allen?”

“Relatively speaking, not a lot. Maybe an ounce, at most.” At Eddie’s puzzled look Barry feels the need to explain, “I can’t actually get drunk. My metabolism is too—”

“You seem very drunk to me,” Eddie cuts through him, sharply.

Barry turns around, the small of his back digging into the sink. “I know. Caitlin and Cisco came up with a… formula.”

Eddie says the word carefully, “A formula?”

Barry shrugs, says, simply, “Yeah.”

Eddie nods in response, his shoulders slouching as he lets his back slump against the door. They watch each other for a long moment, Barry chewing on the inside of his cheek and Eddie standing still, silent.

“I kissed Iris,” and, “Iris told me,” break the silence in unison.

They blink at each other. Eddie gives him a tight smile.

Barry smiles back, says, “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t tell her,” it’s not a question, but Barry feels there’s doubt behind it.

“I didn’t,” he reaffirms. “I didn’t because I promised—” Barry stops, licks his lips, averts his eyes. “I promised you.”

The tension pulls at Barry’s shoulders, wraps around his neck until he feels lightheaded again and he closes his hands around porcelain hard enough that he fears it might break the sink. 

Barry isn’t ready when Eddie takes two strides in his direction, closes his fingers around his shirt and tugs at it. His balance wavers and he tips forward, his palms falling against Eddie’s chest for the second time that evening. Neither of them moves; they breathe in each other’s air until Barry leans in and presses his mouth to Eddie’s.

His head still seems to be swimming and his knees are threatening to buckle at any time, but he puts his entire body into it. His hands move from the sink to Eddie’s face, thumbs over his jaw line, and Eddie’s wrap around his waist in turn, clutching at the sides of his shirt.

Eddie is more skill than enthusiasm; his lips part and move against Barry’s almost lazily, tongue coming out to taste Barry and teeth nipping at Barry’s lip when they break apart to breathe. Barry closes the distance again before Eddie can get another breath in, hands coming down to pull at Eddie’s clothes, pressing their bodies together.

Barry wonders, as Eddie moans against his mouth, if this is the way he kisses Iris—hands grabbing, reaching, pulling at anything it can find, hips pressed to hers, tongue searching and tasting and stealing her breath away.

As Eddie’s thumbs slip under Barry’s shirt to rub against his hipbones, Barry wonders if Iris groans like he does, or if she does something else. Does she break the kiss to let Eddie nibble at her neck? Does she try to unbuckle Eddie’s belt, pop open his shirt?

Does she—

“Eddie. Eddie. Stop.”

The heat in Eddie’s eyes when he pulls away makes the words die in Barry’s throat. Eddie’s still got his hands under Barry’s shirt, fingers rubbing at Barry’s skin, and Barry gives out a whimper.

“Eddie, I can’t,” he says, letting his hands fall over Eddie’s to pry them away. “I can’t do this to her.”

Eddie nods as if the thought just dawned on him and steps back, head falling back against the opposite wall. Barry’s eyes drop to his exposed neck, but Barry shakes the feeling away before he does something—something he knows they would both regret.

“Dammit, Allen,” mutters Eddie, chuckling with empty humor.

Barry smiles despite the circumstances. “I think we screwed up.”

Eddie’s grin is intoxicating when he retorts, “You think?” and runs a hand through his hair. Barry follows the movement with his eyes, granting himself that one moment, and Eddie seems to notice, warns, “Allen.”

“Sorry,” Barry laughs. “I just—” he pauses, shakes his head. “I don’t know what’s going on. This is something else.”

There’s only the chatter from the crowd outside for a moment. Eddie’s smile widens and it looks almost daring, but Barry isn’t taking the bait.

He breaks their silence with, “I _really_ need to pee.”

Eddie chuckles and pats Barry’s arm as if they didn’t just make out in a tiny, old bathroom, and says he’ll wait outside. Barry closes the door, takes in a breath that almost knocks him back, and comes to the only sensible conclusion there is: it’s always about Iris.

_

end

_


End file.
